Close Encounter
by almostblackandwhite
Summary: An insane ficlet about Hank Moody naked in the middle of a crop circle, the Lone Gunmen, and a hot FBI-agent named 'Xena Scoody'. If that somehow reminds you something, then you're doing it right! (JUST IMAGINE GILLIAN ANDERSON ON 'CALIFORNICATION')


**Lol. This whole idea came to my mind when my brother and me were just chatting about Californication and David. Suddenly my bro said something about that one X-Files episode in which Scully sent Mulder away to see some crop circles... and that was when I wondered what it would be like to have Gillian Anderson doing a guest appearance on Californication! Lol. How would you imagine that? Here is my version. LMAO off this very second. Hahaha.**

Hank Moody woke up and something was hurting as hell. On closer inspection, probably his whole body. He blinked and opened his eyes, just to stare directly into a ball of light which painfully burned into his eyeballs. _Ahhhhrrg_. That must be the sun. Where the hell was he? One thing for sure, he was lying on the ground and it was fucking uncomfortable. _Shit_, and his head felt like it could go off like a bomb any second. What the fuck had he done again? As always in such occasions, he didn't have the slightest memory of the unexplainable circumstances that brought him to his present state. _Great. Fucking great. _He was still blinded by the sun and his whole body actually felt like it was on flames. Hank tried to raise but his head started swimming, and he hurt his elbows on something hard and itchy. _What the hell...? _The last time he remembered lying on that sort of ground was in 8th grade when he had sex with Stacy deMar during that goddamn Idaho school trip. Jesus, that had been boring - until this late hour in the afternoon in which Stacy jerked him behind those straw bales. She was on top and his ass hurt for more than a week (which had been totally worth it, anyway.) So he was lying in a goddamn _GRAINFIELD?_ Yes he was. _God Dammit. Jeez._ He moaned in delusion, angst and that hurting pain, until the second he made another worrying realization which stopped his whining for a moment: For some reasons he was completely naked. And, _boy_, it wasn't a nice sight. Not that he was in a bad physical shape, normally, but right now probably his whole skin had a stinging red color and the sight of it made him want to vomit. He groaned at the thought of how fucking long he must've been lying there to get to this state of sunburn. His skin felt like it was peeling off, and well, it probably fucking was. _Ahhhhrrg_. Son OF A BITCH. It hurt. Motherfuckin' ... ! He blinked again to adjust to the damn sun and tried to look around. He _definitely _was in a freaking grainfield, oddly right in the middle of a circle of approximately 30 feet diameter, and all around him the corn was so tall that he couldn't see _any damn thing except corn._ He hated corn. He just decided. Somewhere behind trying to ignore the goddamn motherfucking twirl of pain in his brain he started to ask himself again how the hell he exactly could have gotten here. Well, there weren't any signs that people had made their way through the corn around him earlier - the stalks looked perfectly straight. _Fuck_, had somebody pushed him out of a plane or what? It wasn't impossible, still not very likely. No one could ever estimate what would happen if they all went on drugs but this was a bit heavy, even for this people. Without much hope he looked around the circle for his clothes but there were none. Nothing. Goddamn nothing but him and his red body and, CORN. _Arghhh_. His head was killing him and with his body still roasting in the sun, he thought he'd actually smelt burnt flesh, but that could've also been drug inflicted. Great. Just. Fucking. Great. What the hell should he do _now_?

Suddenly a bad noise was coming closer from somewhere between the corn. What the... ? It was the rushing, really bad sound of a radio, and for all that Hank's brain could process, it was country music. He was lying in the cornfield and forced to listen to a goddamn country song?_?_ Could it be any worse?

_"Stand by your man... give him two arms to cling to... and something warm to come to... when nights are cold and lonely... "_

His brain complained with a massive headache - that music was bloody annoying - and for the worst of it, coming closer, moving invisibly towards him through the corn, just like in a Stephen King short story. Suddenly a man stepped out of the crops and when he saw Hank, spoke very seriously into his Walkie Talkie.  
"I found him."  
_What the fuck?_ Why was this nerd looking for him? The man had long, blonde frayed hair and wore nerdy black-framed glasses, a black AC/DC t-shirt and jeans which didn't fit him at all. He looked very serious and came up to Hank. He looked at him for a second until he suddenly asked him:  
"How are you feeling?", with a deadpan look.  
"How AM I feeling? Well, just great. Do you have any fucking idea where my clothes are?"  
"Clothes. Got it."  
The nerd said something inaudible into his Walkie. The guy started to scare Hank.  
"And you have no memory of getting here?"  
Hank wiped some sweat off his face.  
"No, none at all. But I'm still stoned anyway, so I wouldn't rely on my answers if I were you"  
The nerd considered this for a second but he continued his investigation on Hank.  
"Did you wake up like this? Did you see anyone who took you with them?"  
This was getting fucking annoying.  
"Nope! Well if I would've, wouldn't I know what to do now, how to get outta here? Who are you, anyway?"  
He tried to sound as pissed as he was, but his damn burning skin was hurting as hell and distracting him too much. He didn't even give a fuck about being naked. Who knows how many people had seen him like that last night anyway, people with mobile phone cameras and internet access. He knew about that. He'd been there. Hank tried very hard to remember anything from last night, the woman he'd been with, or _women_, what stuff he had taken, what the hell he'd drank and when exactly his memory ended. But there was just _blank_.

All of a sudden another guy, with a beard, dropped out of the crops, wiping off itchy stuff and not stopping himself from yelling "Whoa!" when he saw Hank.  
"That bad?" he asked his friend, merely, not Hank. They observed him like a fucking science experiment. Those freaks.  
"Here are the clothes"  
The beard man put some out of a rustling plastic bag. _Oh, just great. A Hawaiian shirt and beige shorts._ He's just gonna look like a fucking Florida retirement tourist. The man came up to him and put something else out of the plastic bag, a yellow bottle, and he started to spray with it onto Hank's skin, "which hurts like hell, by the way!"  
"Calm down! It is after sun spray, I have the impression you might need it", he smirked. _Argh, smirk my ass. Very funny, you idiot._  
The careless way he put the shirt over Hank's head proved him to be a nerd even more, a guy who never enjoys the pleasures of human interactions. Finally Hank was dressed again which was at least something like a relief. (Though the spray was burning on his skin on a whole new level and the clothes stuck to his body, but, yeah, _thanks anyway_.)  
"Who the hell are you guys?", Hank asked them again, right in the second in which he acknowledged that the crop around him was cut in strange shapes, after raising from the ground.  
"And WHERE the FUCK am I."  
"You are in the middle of a crop circle."  
"What? What... great!" _What in holy Mary's name and virginity?_  
"And how did I get here? Did YOU freaks bring me here?"  
"No! No, no noooo. You see, we are not quite sure yet, but we believe, that you had been abducted by an unknown flying object - extraterrestrials, who might've done experiments on you, and are also responsible for this otherwise unexplainable phenomenon _here_." The blonde guy cleared his throat.  
_Oh, shit. He got into the hands of goddamn alien worshippers, ufologists, Welcome to Earth, spacelings!"-kind of deep down nerds. UNBELIEVABLE._ Hank actually started to laugh because it was that hilarious. (Or, still some post-drug infliction might've been the reason for this outburst too.) Anyway, he started to scream and freak out the nerds a bit:  
"You really believe in this shit? Extraterrestrials coming to earth? Have you ever given it a deeper thought, I mean, what like would actually happen if all those fucking ETs got here? Like that we might be decapitated, ripped open and eaten?"  
Hank was talking himself into rage. The ufologists exchanged worried glances.  
"Ha, you guys always give me a good laugh, seriously. And I don't even feel sorry when I say you are completely pathetic idiots"_ Freaking unbelievable. _He should get the hell outta here and never meet those guys again. Right after that thought the beardy man nervously said:  
"Did you hear that?"  
"Hear what."  
The blonde guy looked like something was worrying him a lot. And then Hank heard it too. A buzzing, humming sound coming dangerously fast closer. They realized by then that it must be cars, and 3 seconds after that they saw the helicopters, hanging and swinging over their heads like the fucking sword of Damocles. Hank was just waiting for a megaphone to announce that they were looking for "Hank Moody, who's committed a federal crime by being drunk, stoned and undressed on public property", but there came no sound from the helicopters except the freaking buzzing of the propellers which was almost splitting his head. And before the two nerds were able to jump back inside the crops, before Hank could manage to wipe some of the vomit and spit off his face, the cropfield around them was crashed by a fat, black car, which was seriously speaking _government_. The door besides the black, invisible windows was opened and outta there stepped an agent. And, _fuck_, a woman. Goddamn it, and for what it's worth, she was _hot_. From all available FBI-agents in the state, he, Hank Moody, of course had to be arrested by a hottie. Ironic, wasn't it. Her suit was skin-tight and her jacket was more giving away than hiding, he could see way beyond her white blouse, and, _claret bra _beneath that. Jesus Christ.

"Mr. Hank Moody? You are arrested for indecent behavior and possible involvement in a number of unsolved crimes last night" Her voice was fatally.  
_WTF?_  
"You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say can and WILL be used against you."  
_Great. Thanks._  
"And, you have the right to engage an attorney, of course."  
She was saying her lines straight textbook, quite contrary to her practice - like Hank Moody would be learning soon. Right now though he was just thinking about how to hit on her without her _hitting _him in the face with a rubber baton. She was _steaming_, actually. Her hair was dyed blonde (but not as disgusting looking as the nerd's hair before), her green eyes were giving him a deadly serious look, as serious as a contract killer or executor (which oddly turned him on) and her lips displayed a pouty "don't mess with me". That woman was not to be kidded with. Damn, but was she hot anyway! She turned him around, threw him not very gently at the side of the car, and handcuffed him rudely. _Ow! Damn it, bitch._  
While Hank was arrested the helicopter guys took care of the ufologists, hopefully sending them to an FBI department a mile away from him. When the hottie agent negligently tried to put Hank into the big, black FBI car his head kissed the door case and he was seeing stars - until he had another blackout. Yet another one. _Great. Fucking g..._

When Hank woke up, he was in a dark room. No light, no windows, but he was sitting on a chair, his body was still hurting as hell and he still was in those damn tourist clothes. _Dammit_. Suddenly harsh, glaring white neon light was turned on and it made his head spin. His eyes were blinking and then he saw the steamy agent from earlier entering the room. He finally realized that they must've had put him into an interrogation room. He could see her reflection on the right side of the room, mirroring, probably there were about 6 people watching and listening to them right now. Great. His life was so fucking awesome. But then again - _hello, sexy FBI bitch!_  
She sat down at the table and started.  
"I'm special agent Xena Scoody. Do you know why you are here.", she threw at him calmly, with a deadpan look in her, _actually_, darn pretty face.  
He would try the light way. It had worked with some cops before, especially women of course, since good old Hank Moody was still able to let the chicks think they're doing what they want but actually are what he wants them to.  
"I have no bloody idea, but you will inform me any second, I suppose."  
"STOP SHITTING ME, MISTER MOODY!" _Ok, obviously not this one._ "What were you doing in the Northwest County area completely naked in a grainfield? I mean, this is putting up some questions here, even if we wouldn't have any reasons to arrest you, which we _have_, plenty, though."  
"I'm VERY sorry, but I have no idea how I got there"  
Hank realized this was gonna be a long day (or night, or whatever fucking time of day it was actually). Special agent Scoody was not satisfied with that. She jumped out of her chair and before he could even take a closer inspection on her cleavage in front of his face, she slapped him and yelled:  
"I said, DON'T FUCK WITH ME! Who were those men that were with you? Those 3 men?" _(What? There was three of them?) "_None of them would say anything neither. I don't know what you are all hiding, but I can tell you, this can become a damn long day for you in here, inside a room without air conditioning and video cameras, meaning, you have no idea what I'm capable of in order to get your damn mouth talking!"  
Her eyes were sparkling with some sort of madness, which was something to worry about, but, she still was damn hot and there he was now! Maybe he could try to make the best out of it. _"Make the best out of every screwed up, embarrassing, endangering situation!", _one of his mottos anyway!  
Special agent Scoody was still in rage, and the little cross on her necklace was dangling back and forth.  
"I... I... I told you, I have no fucking idea. My memory of last night - completely blank, ok?"  
She looked at him as to say _I don't give a shit!, _so he knew he had to keep talking in order to calm her down.  
"I admit that there were drugs involved, probably, hard stuff, with no doubt, you know, I know this bunch of people..." Hank tried to smile, until he realized he shouldn't really have said that. Dammit.  
"Go on." But it was working, somehow! She seemed more relaxed, which became her better than rage, actually.  
"... and, I speak only for myself, but those freaks, the ufologists, seem all like the type who might've gotten a noseful too much in their earlier lives. Anyway, I cannot speak for those nerds."  
"So, Mister Moody, you are saying those 3 men are not your friends?"  
"I never met them before, and I am very sure, at least about that."  
"You see, there are heavy accusations against them. We found out that they had been illegally walking inside Area 51, if you're familiar with that. Also they had stolen top secret government informations by breaking into a Senator's house. They are highly dangerous", she said, looking like the very serious FBI-agent again. _Yeah sure, I bet they are, if you say so._  
She had calmed down and was talking to him like a normal human being again. Hank saw his chance.  
"So that's all? Can I go now?", he tried. Xena Scoody actually smiled at his weak attempt.  
"Not so fast, Mr. Moody. We still haven't figured out what you were doing completely naked in that grainfield in the middle of bright daylight. You can expect a lawsuit from the farmer who owns that field.", she smirked.  
"Though this is not in my hands anymore, actually, I'm still curious."  
She leaned back casually in her chair and gave him a challenging look. _What was he gonna do?_ Make up some unbelievable, fruity, cool story? He seriously wanted to get into her pants NOW - the table looked good - though he was aware of the dangers of bonking officials. Had been there, too. But she was worth any following records and arrestments. What would be the best way to win her over? Maybe just tell her the truth? She seemed like a woman who fancied an honest answer the most, unlike some cops he encountered with earlier who would just get rid of him fastly. So he just started talking. He would see where that'd get him...  
"Yesterday afternoon I had a fight with my girlfriend. It was some stupid argument about... uhh, I don't even remember, maybe about spending more time with her and not writing. I'm a writer, you see..."  
"Uh, really." She seemed interested in that idea. Her beautiful eyes looked up at him, making him woozy.  
"Anyway, I left the house still really pissed off, didn't even apologize. I dunno where she is now! I only remember that I went to see my best friend Charlie, and we got really drunk in his house, his pool actually... Then suddenly this whole bunch of _really _crazy people arrived. I won't say any names, since this ain't an investigation anymore, right?" She shook her head, negating, and stared at him to make him continue. _Holy Lord, those eyes... Hank Moody, pull yourself together!_  
"... but let me tell you, they brought all this freaking stuff with them, tons of LSD, cocaine, heroin, water pipes... which was seriously scaring the shit out of me. This one guy! He actually flies the emergency helicopter for the hospital! _(No. THEY DIDN'T. DID THEY?) _He tried to talk me into giving it a shot, and right there is where the memory starts to fade. Well. I might add they kinda forced me, because it was "whether try it, or fuck off" and I didn't want to be out on the streets in the middle of the fucking night. So I stayed, and well, it was all _mad_. I won't say any more. It went all up to one point in which everybody started to laugh or yell or scream like madmen and I think there was a fucking loud noise and some bright lights in the night sky... Well, now that I'm actually thinking about it... Those assholes. And, dammit, Charlie! Where the hell have you been, you motherfucker?"  
Xena Scoody laughed an earthy laugh which was turning him on like mad. She cracked a smile, while she said:  
"Do you want me to tell those three UFO-freaks about their _now-identified-flying-object_? Or you want that pleasure for yourself?" She grinned as if the two of them were sharing some dirty secret.  
"Nah. Go ahead. The best I'd never see those guys again. Don't blame me, they were actually scaring the shit out of me! I have no idea what they might've done to me!", he smirked right back at her.  
"I really liked your story, Mister Moody. You really seem to be a great writer. Though I have never heard of you! Is there a reason for that?" That was cocky now.  
"Nobody has"  
"What are you writing about?"  
"Well, women, mostly. OK, sex, mainly. Not exactly number one on New York Times bestselling list. The most ironic thing is - that one manuscript that actually made it into this goddamn list had been published by somebody else... It's a long story." _Uh, what the heck!_ "It was actually my own life story, and it had been stolen by my ex-girlfriend's fiancee's daughter, with whom I... ehm, never mind." _Dammit, was he actually blushing?_ She wasn't distracted by it, though.  
"Poor, poor man. So I guess you need to start something new then?"  
She stared at him.  
"Any ideas yet?"  
She gave him that challenging glare again. What the hell was that supposed to mean...! But he'd figured it out.  
"Well, I could give you some inspiration, if you need it"  
So she said and leaned over the table to wildly assail him - _goddamn it, he could still do it!, _she hungrily ate his mouth and he almost lost the will to breathe. She ripped away first her jacket, then her white blouse, and, _jesus, they really actually had to be unsupervised,_ acted like an untamed animal, _oh, yes, come here baby, Hank Moody is king._ She helped him pulling away the damn Hawaiian shirt and he didn't even care about the sunburn anymore, she was making her way inside _his pants_ now and, _ohmygodsonuvabitch_, he hoped that no fucking voyeuristic asshole was hearing him moan now... _On the other hand..._ this new, kind of not-knowing-if-he's-being-watched-situation was turning him really on. Hank Moody and the never ending list of weird things to turn him own. Xena Scoody wildly jumped onto him and the brave chair didn't even break apart, but the probability rose with every second, and as they were continuing Hank Moody was seeing stars for the second time of this very strange day...

**Like I said! - Just for fun! Haha. I am not quite sure what Scoody' exactly means (if it means anything at all, lol) but I think it's quite fitting. ROFL. Please forgive any mistakes in the text and concerning _Californication_, I haven't seen the show for a while... Happy birthday to myself today. Lol.**


End file.
